Silent Hill: Reunion
by Shadow Of The Conscious
Summary: Cheryl, now 32 years old, is trying to pick up her injured son at a hospital far away. She returns to Silent Hill, but not on purpose. It wants to know what makes her mind tick. Chapter 2 Up! Rating may be changed as story progresses.
1. The Crash and the Repressive Beast

So, here's another Silent Hill fic of mine. I did one previously, called the Memory of Redemption, which is kind of a cool concept in my opinion. Anyway, this is a different story, inspired by but not based off the ending of the Shattered Memories game. This story takes place in the main storyline frame. Cheryl is back, now a 32 year old just trying to pick up her son from a hospital in a faraway town. This is not a cult storyline, by the way. This is more in the vein of SH2 with ties to SH1.

Anyway, enjoy! The more reviews I get, the faster I can churn out new chapters.

* * *

Cheryl Lane always hated taking the routes by the mountains. It was there that accidents were highly prone to occur. It was a narrow road, more or less, and the fact that it was a distance off the ground bothered her significantly.

Unfortunately for her, this particular road was the best way to reach the resort where her son was staying at. A few hours earlier, she had received a letter from her son, which read:

_Mom,_

_I got into an accident at the resort I was staying at. Don't ask how it happened, and it wasn't because of me. The doctor told me that I have a fractured bone in my leg, and that I have to go home._

_Sorry to make things seem inconvenient, but I have no other means of transportation. Can you please come pick me up? I'm sure they'll direct you to the proper place. I miss you, mom. _

_Love,_

_-Aiden_

Just about a month earlier, Aiden left his mother to go on a trip with his junior foreign language class. Cheryl protested, only because she knew that somehow, someway, Aiden would end up being injured or kidnapped. She was right about one of the possibilities, and now she was kicking herself in the ass for not being more resilient on her persuasion.

It was not that Aiden was a reckless kid, in reality he's actually a well-mannered, good hearted son. However, Cheryl inherited her father's concern and paranoia. Harry Mason would always be checking up on her when she was younger; if she decided to go hang out with some friends, her father would always be calling her every half-hour just to hear the sound of her voice.

Cheryl would inherit Harry's paranoia into her adulthood. After everything involving the cult, if they found out that she had a child as well, they would most certainly go after him. They would probably kidnap Cheryl too, or even kill her just to get her out of the way; after all, what use would she have to them now? During the night, when nobody could hear her, she would be crying softly; fearing the life of her child, and even herself. Perhaps if she was still herself, still the foolhardy no-bullshit-tolerance Heather Mason that she once was, she would openly welcome any cult members in with a knife in one hand and a fist in the other. But that was not her anymore. Because of Aiden, she couldn't afford to live like a heroine.

Nevertheless, Cheryl planned carefully. Before Aiden came into her life, she changed her surname from Cheryl Mason to Cheryl Lane, and gave Aiden that surname accordingly. Other steps were taken, such as changing locations. Once all that was said and done, the cult faded away; so too her past. They were free to live their lives, free from the burden of the past and everything that was associated with it. For the first time in her life, Cheryl was happy. The only thing she never really changed was her hair; Cheryl always kept her brunette hair moderately short.

The constant downpour of rain did more than annoy Cheryl, it made the roads slick. She would have to drive carefully; she didn't want to crash her car. It would just create more problems for her. As she struggled to focus on the road, she could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

Soon enough, blinding headlights concealed her vision. She slammed her foot on the brakes, but they locked. Her body was thrashed around as another car crashed into hers. The sickening sound of glass breaking and metal being mangled rang in her hears like an annoyingly loud ring tone. Her car skidded off of the road, breaking through the guard rail and sending her careening down the hill.

It all went black after that.

Cheryl awoke several hours later in a daze. Once her vision cleared, she realized that she was no longer on the highway, but on a side road. She opened the car door, and fell ungracefully onto the pavement. Rising to her feet, she coughed at the overwhelming presence of fog. She suddenly realized where she was.

"Oh no," Cheryl muttered.

Cheryl went to check her car, and she didn't like what she saw. The front of the car was completely smashed in, which meant that the engine was pretty much ruined. Smoke billowed from what remained of the engine. Grabbing a flashlight from her glove compartment, she went to go find help.

Not too far from where her car was located, Cheryl discovered another car. This car was a lime green sports car, and was damaged much worse than her car was. Strangely enough, there was not a single person in the car. She wondered if it was vacated or if the poor bastard flew out of the car from the impact.

Either way, she was pissed. Of all the worse times to be getting in an accident, this took the cake. All she could do now was to hope her son was holding up well.

It was a couple blocks to walk to town, but Cheryl wasn't bothered by it. She loved to walk outside on occasion; she called it her 'relaxing session.' What did bother her were the circumstances and the location. She didn't want to dwell on it though; she just wanted to find a working car and get the hell out of there. Who knows what could happen if she stuck around for long.

* * *

Cheryl finally arrived into town twenty minutes later. It had not changed much since the last time she left it about fifteen years ago. Its presence felt different, however; it felt like it was inviting her in, rather than watching from the sidelines. She shrugged it to the back of her mind though; she wanted nothing to do with this place. Her objectives were simple: find a car, pick up her son, go home and go to bed. Maybe in the morning she can talk to her insurance company to sort the 'accident' mess out.

The fog surrounded her as she explored the town, trying to see if there was any living being around. In her mind, she kept asking herself, '_Why? Why did this have to happen?'_

Outside of a convenient shop, a janitor in a navy blue outfit was mopping the sidewalk by the entrance. He was a gentle looking African American in his late 50's. Cheryl thanked her luck and approached the man.

"Uh," she began, "excuse me, sir?"

The janitor turned around, his eyes perked up. It was almost as if he was surprised there was another human being here other than himself.

"Can I help you ma'am?"

"Yeah, uh," Cheryl paused, and then continued, "I was involved in a car accident outside the town. My son is at a hospital that's an hour away from here. Do you know anybody around here that could give me a lift?"

The janitor directed his head to the ground, probably trying to think of someone Cheryl could contact. He turned his head back towards the girl, seemingly having an answer. "There's a man that lives in that neighborhood right across from there," said the janitor, pointing to a development of houses on the opposite side of the store. "He owns the taxi cab service here, I'm sure he can help you out. 206 Colfax Avenue."

"206 Colfax Avenue," Cheryl repeated, "thanks."

"Uh-huh," the janitor said, and then resumed his mopping duties. "Take care of yourself, ma'am."

"Thanks," Cheryl responded, "You too."

* * *

Cheryl hugged her emerald green coat as she trekked through sidewalk after sidewalk to find this house that weird guy was talking about. She was wondering why it was so frigid out, it was July after all.

Cheryl noted the numbers on the mailboxes as she was walking past them. So far, she passed through houses 216 through 210. She was on the even side of the house numbers, so she had only three numbers left to go. Soon enough, she approached a little two-story house with the numbers 206 above the front door.

Cheryl took note of the quietness of the whole neighborhood. If she remembered the town well, she would have to stay on her guard. Still, she couldn't shake off this dwelling uneasiness.

Cheryl approached the front door and rang the door bell. It sounded like any other door bell would. A minute or so passed, and there was no answer. There wasn't even any sign of life in the house; no footsteps, no dogs barking, no nothing. Perhaps they hadn't heard her, so Colleen decided to check herself.

"Hello?" Cheryl called out, "anybody home?"

Still no response, but Cheryl continued to try. "Uh, I was in a car accident. My son is at Woodbridge hospital in Sanford. Please…I was told that you have a taxi cab service, could you give me a lift?"

There was still no response.

Frustrated, she decided to leave. There was probably no-one even there, she thought. "Forget it, this is…"

Before she could finish that sentence, the door to the house creaked open slowly. It sounded like a slow, drawn out moan, or a scream of some sort.

"…pointless."

"Hello?" Cheryl cried. She sensed foul play. She grasped her flashlight and entered the house.

Upon entering the living room, she concluded that there was absolutely no way any human being could live like this. The paint on the walls was chipping off, the wood boards on the floor were stained and creaked loudly, and there was just shit everywhere. Not that it was fecal matter, but pizza boxes, drinks, and other sorts of trash occupied the house. Cheryl wasn't exactly the arbiter of housekeeping, but she still had standards, and this place looked like it belonged to the Otherworld without it actually being in the Otherworld.

"Ugh," Cheryl muttered. Maybe that strange guy got her the wrong address.

"Is anybody home?" Cheryl asked, but got no response.

Cheryl continued to patrol around the house, but found no sign of life. She decided that she may as well explore; she might find something useful.

She stepped into the living room, but it didn't have much. It had a withered looking sofa and a TV with static flashing across the screen. Something about the static caught Cheryl's eye, as if there was something more to the static. She had a strange urge to take a picture with her camera phone.

Digging the phone out of her coat pocket, she aimed the camera at the static, and pressed the shutter button. At that moment, it felt like something cold ran through her skin.

She glanced at the picture she took. There was static, but she also noticed the faint outline of a boy's head mixed in with all the static. _'What the hell?'_ Cheryl thought.

Cheryl continued to explore the seemingly abandoned house. In the kitchen there were utensils, a bunch of trash, and other useless junk. She didn't find anything useful in the upstairs rooms either. Going back downstairs, she noticed a particularly nice looking mirror in the dining room. It looked quite out of place in a dump like this. She decided it would be a smart idea to check herself for any injuries, although she wasn't exactly in pain. Still, she decided it's best to be safe than sorry.

Underneath the mirror was a 'half moon' desk, which contained a bust with a ruby jewel located where its heart should be. She pocketed the jewel; maybe it would be a nice consolation gift to her son for being so damn late.

Cheryl gazed at herself in the mirror. Luckily for her she didn't seem to have any noticeable injuries. It was just her and her attire; emerald green jacket, white t-shirt and dark blue jeans to top it all off. Around her neck dangled a pendant; the same one her father gave to her so many years ago. Her son would always ask her why she kept wearing that pendant; it had rusted over the years and lost much of its luster since her father gave it to her. She had her reasons.

Without warning, a slight rustle was heard in the distance. Cheryl felt her skin jump, was someone there? She took a few steps away from the mirror to see if it was anything to worry about. After a moment of silence, she deduced that it was nothing and returned to the mirror.

When she resumed examining the mirror, she noticed that something was different. This time, she had a nasty cut on her forehead. Blood trickled down from the wound and she heard the droplet patter onto the floor.

Cheryl immediately ran her fingers through her forehead, but her fingers came back without any trace of blood. She glanced at the mirror again, thinking that maybe she was seeing things. However, progressively, additional cuts started appearing on her head, moving to her face, then her body. Her whole reflection was soaked in blood. She heard a faint siren in the distance.

The glass began to crack around the mirror, and shattered around her. The impact caused Cheryl to fall to the floor. For a moment, all was quiet.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the world around her begin to decay. Shards of wood floated from the ground, replaced with rusted metal grating. Blood started to appear on the walls around her. The whole place was turning to hell before her eyes. It was coming back to her. Hell was coming back for her.

Cheryl rose up very slowly, taking in the horror around her. Shock, fear and uncertainty adorned her face. In the distance, the rustling of feet was heard. Cheryl cursed herself for not having a weapon on her. Then again, it had been so long for her.

As the sound of movement gradually began to crescendo, her phone began to emit a weird sound. It sounded like somebody stuck electrical wires through the TV while it was running.

Cheryl could see a little bit of the monster from around the corner. The terrible sound of limbs dragging on the floor filled her ears. Cheryl could see the monster better now, and wondered what the hell it was; the creature was burly and flabby, it's skin stretched out and drooping down like a sad dog's ears. Its arms were massive; the creature knuckles were dragging on the floor. A rusted mask was stapled onto its face, with a smiley face painted on.

Cheryl attempted to open the front door, but it was locked. The monster was closing in on her, Cheryl had to run. And it kept following her throughout the house, snarling and dragging its limbs across the grated floor. Cheryl headed for the kitchen.

Cheryl did her best to ignore the gruesome environment surrounding her, but it was still getting to her. Everything was horror in this hellhole. Twisted, mangled beings slurred around like drunken mental patients. A dead dog lied on the kitchen counter, a disfigured corpse. Its gut was sliced open, revealing its long cold entrails. She could see a knife sticking out from its stomach.

Cheryl tried not to vomit as she dug her hand inside the poor animal, grasping the knife and unsheathing it from its organic tomb. She gasped as the creature began slithering its monstrous hands around her, like it was caressing her. Without hesitation, she jammed the knife into the thing's head, the mask cracked as the blade punctured the beast. It howled pathetically as it collapsed onto the ground.

Cheryl gasped in short breaths, still shaking from what she had just encountered. She held the knife in front of her, thinking the monster was 'playing dead.' Silence filled the room as the Otherworld began to dissipate, bringing her back to the real world.

Now it was back to the filthy pigsty she saw earlier. Cheryl collapsed against a wall, wondering what the hell was going on, and why she hadn't seen this coming.


	2. Migrating Memories

Second chapter of Silent Hill: Reunion. Enjoy guys, and please review!

Disclaimer: Silent Hill and Cheryl Mason are Konami's bitches.

* * *

Cheryl returned to her car not too long after her encounter with the beast. If she had remembered correctly, she had a knife she kept hidden in the glove box. It was only for protection; she'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. The way things were turning out now, and considering the fact that she'll be taking more than five steps in the town, that knife will surely come in handy.

She began feeling around in the glove box for the concealed weapon, but she had to wave around other objects to get the prize first. Her glasses kept sliding down her nose, so she had to adjust her glasses simultaneously while trying to find her knife. Finally, she began to feel a metallic, sharp object. She pulled the knife out and stored it in her pocket.

"Excuse me," another voice called out. Cheryl turned around and was greeted with a very angry man. He was an Arabian man who looked like he was in his early 20's. He wore loose, baggy clothing, a white hoodie with the zipper down and a black baseball cap tilted awkwardly. He looked like a thug.

His eyes were lit up with fury as he accosted Cheryl. "Is this your piece of shit car, huh?!" He yelled, gesturing to Cheryl's wrecked sedan. Cheryl glanced at her car, "Doesn't drive like a 'piece of shit' to me," she responded.

"Well that's just _dandy_," the man spat, "Cause thanks to you, my ride is completely totaled!"

Cheryl glanced at the man's car; it was the green sports car she passed by earlier after her car got wrecked. She put two and two together, realizing that this brash teenager was the one driving the green car when the two collided. Cheryl frowned.

Cheryl shrugged, looking rather annoyed. "Well," she began, "I don't know what to tell you."

The teenager huffed, clenching his teeth as his eyes wandered, trying to figure out how to solve the problem the two parties were in. "Is it too much to ask that you have some ID on you?"

Cheryl pondered, he must have some kind of insurance company if he was going to that length. She dug through her pocket but discovered her wallet was not in there. She began to search all her pockets, from her jacket to her jeans, but no wallet was found.

"Shit," Cheryl cursed. She must have lost it in the crash somehow

The frustrated teenager crossed his arms, and sighed. "Fantastic, just _awesome_," he spoke sarcastically. "Do you know how much money it's gonna cost to fix this fucking thing?!"

Cheryl shrugged, "Not my problem."

His eyebrows furrowed, "Not my problem? Not my _problem_?!" He slammed his foot on the front bumper of Cheryl's car, obviously not happy with her nonchalant statement. Cheryl tensed up, easing her hand towards her knife in case the kid tried to do anything stupid. "Don't you understand what's going on?" he asked rhetorically, "Thanks to you, I'm stuck in this **goddamn** dump!"

Cheryl could feel her hot-headedness rising; a trait of hers that she had ever since she was a teenager. "I'm stuck here too, y'know! In fact, I was on my way to pick up my child from the hospital when your car smashed into mine," Cheryl spat, "Now because of this, it's gonna take me hours to get to where I need to go, so stop acting like this was all my fault, dammit! I'm not the one who was driving that _death machine_ over there!"

"Wah, wah, wah," the teenager mockingly spoke, "I just love to hear about all your_ problems_." Cheryl rolled her eyes; she had enough of this useless banter. She decided to walk away. The teenager saw this and felt clearly offended.

"Where the hell are you going?" Cheryl turned around to face him, "Look, kid, I don't have time to deal with this. I'm getting the hell out of here, and if you're smart enough than you'll realize the same thing too."

He tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't find a response to her last statement. He stormed off, disappearing into the fog that surrounded the two of them.

* * *

Despite how much she hated this town, Cheryl realized that it would be too far to walk to Sanford and that her only hope of escape was to go through Silent Hill. She would just have to suck up whatever came her way and just focus on escaping this place and getting her son back.

Cheryl mentally retraced her steps on how she reached the town initially. She was able to reach the town by going through a path by Toluca Lake. She'll have to take that route again in order to reach the town.

After walking a couple blocks she reached the little restroom facility that she had marked as a checkpoint earlier. She sighed in relief, knowing that she was going in the right direction. Unfortunately for her, the bathrooms were adjacent to a parking lot that was devoid of any cars. She did find something on the ground though; it looked to be a driver's license.

The license revealed who the angry teenager she encountered earlier was. His name was Amir Bakim, a twenty year old with a nasty looking mug shot. Cheryl pocketed the license, in case she needed it for later.

She descended the steps leading to the quaint little path. She began to follow the trail, waving through fog to get to her destination.

She reached the cemetery not too long after. It was a rather wide, open space, but she was able to find a gated door that took her to the town originally. Now she had to remember where it was.

Cheryl never liked cemeteries. In fact, she hated them. It wasn't out of some misplaced disgust for the sheer spook factor, but it always reminded her of her dad. After he died, she would always visit her father's grave once every year or so alone, and then with Aiden when he came along. She could never bear to tell him about how he died, or anything about her past, really. So Cheryl would always lie to her son; she told him that Harry Mason died in a car crash.

One gravestone caught her attention in particular. As she approached it, she could see a faint, ghastly image of a feminine figure. She took out her cell phone and took a picture. As the shutter clicked and captured the photo, revealing a troubled woman with long, black hair wearing a light sweater and brown pants, a notice came up on her phone: ONE NEW VOICE MESSAGE.

Cheryl pressed the button to access her voicemail, and held the phone up against her ears.

"_Momma? Where are you momma? Please, please don't leave me alone momma…"_

"Poor girl," Cheryl commented, "But where did that message come from?"

Cheryl slipped it into the back of her mind, and put away her cell phone. She continued trekking through the graveyard, until she reached the stoned fence with the door she went through to get to town. She entered through the doorway, continuing to wander down the linear path.

Cheryl heard the faint sound of buzzing in the distance. As she progressed towards town, the buzzing became even louder, until she discovered a revved chainsaw lying idly by in front of a pile of logs. Cheryl smiled at herself, praising whatever luck she had. She advanced for the chainsaw cautiously, but right when she reached within touching distance, the chainsaw's appearance changed: it was flipped over, it's blade rusted and it looked fairly useless. Another notice came onto her phone; it was another voice message. Cheryl listened intently as a soft male voice was heard:

"_I'd…I'd never kill myself. At least…I don't think so."_

Cheryl stored her phone away once more, but she began to wonder why she was receiving these weird voice messages. She didn't want to dwell on it though, but it still bothered her.


End file.
